


A Married Man's Lament

by FormulaFerrari



Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Angst, Austrian GP 2015, F/M, Hurt, M/M, second person narative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-06 23:29:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4240806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FormulaFerrari/pseuds/FormulaFerrari
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jenson's struggled with his feelings for too long, and the fear for Fernando's safety show the cracks he's trying to weld shut.</p><p>*Set Austria, 2015*</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Married Man's Lament

**Author's Note:**

> Not such a happy fic but this idea came to me the other day and has been eating away until it was embedded…  
> That damned radio message :')
> 
> Unbetaed, so sorry for any typos 
> 
> #ForzaJules  
> \- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Is Fernando OK? Is Fernando Ok?” You can’t stop the panic rising in his voice; you can’t stop the speed in which you jabbed the radio button so hard you aren’t sure if you hadn’t broken it. You heart is in his throat; thumping against your tonsils and making you want to gag. You can’t shut his eyes, and you know cars are going passed you, regain the few positions you’d managed to obtain but you don’t care. In fact, it’s going to take some strong words for you to not pull the car up and rush out of it to make sure Fernando is all right.

You don’t care about the racing anymore; you needs to know your teammate is fine. You can’t stop playing the crash over and over in your head. The inevitable moment when the back of the Ferrari snapped and was suddenly ploughing to the left: right where Fernando was on track. It almost happened in slow motion. You breath caught as you wanted to scream but you couldn’t make a sound. And then suddenly Fernando was being dragged down the Armco by the Ferrari, being taken further and further away from you. You swallow hard, trying to blink the tears from your eyes but that only achieves sending them rushing down your face.

“Tom, is Fernando OK?” You gasp, feeling your grip on everything slipping. You just need to know. You just need conformation everything is Ok with Fernando. You need to know he’s fine.

“Safety car, Jenson. Stick to the beeps.”

“Fuck the beeps, Tom! Is he Ok?” Your getting frantic, and you know, deep down somewhere, that you should keep a check on it but right now you don’t care. It’s too much. You just need to know he’s fine.

“He’s out the car, Jenson. He looks Ok but he’s being sent to medical for a precautionary check.” You feel the relief coursing through your bones, seeping into your skin. He’s Ok. He’s out the car. That’s the main thing. The main thing is he’s Ok.

“Did he get out himself?”

“Yeah, checked on Kimi.”

 _Kimi_. You feel heartless for not even sparing a thought for the Finn.

“And he-?”

“-Both fine.” Tom confirms and you nod, focusing on the rear wing ahead of you. If you can focus now you can make some good out of the situation you’ve found yourself in. You kind of wish it had been you who had been put in the wall. Not only because it’s Fernando driving the sister car but because Fernando’s car had the updates. Now it’s just the usual gritting teeth until the chequered flag or the car gives out – per usual. You can’t gain any new data from your car; there is nothing new to assess on it. Saying about eggs all in one basket ring in your head but you shake it; now’s not the time for that.

Hopefully you can pull a half decent result for the team so you don’t all have to try and boost the moral about a car that only seems to be going backwards.  

“Ready on the restart, Jenson. Safety in this lap.” You nod, holding the steering a little tighter, a new sense of determination coursing through you as you watch intently at the rear wing in front of you. But however much you were hoping for a half decent weekend your car has other ideas. It’s slowly becoming normal to pull the car into the garage whilst the others are still racing. You shake your head as you’re wheeled back into the garage and the tyre blankets come out and you’re jacked up yet again. You need to bit you pessimistic words down before they slip out and crack what small moral boost you offer but it gets harder each time you stand in the press box. You know the fans are rolling their eyes, getting bored of the words that just seem to be lies every time you say them. _It will get better soon, it will get better soon._ Even you think you’re beginning to sound like a broken record now. You’re getting bored with your own empty words – no wonder everyone else is.

You get out of the car ruefully; trying to avoid everyone and keep your back to the camera you know is trying to catch a glimpse of your anger, your frustration. That little voice in the back of your head yells at you to just do it; just throw your helmet at the wall and rage. But you know it’s pointless; sure, it might make you feel better for a few minutes but the aftermath will just be worse. There is already talk in the media that your seat is under threat for next year and you really don’t want to start adding fuel to that fire. Your PR agent waits with a sad smile on his face, ready to take your helmet from you but you’re not sure you want to take it off. Give him a small shake of your head you move towards Tom, flipping your visor up.

“Get your press stuff done, pal. We’ll debrief all together later. I think everyone needs a moment here.” Tom pats your shoulder, leading you back towards the back of the garage. And you can’t really say you blame him. Nine laps and a double retirement. This is the worst race you’ve had as a team all season. Yes, you’ve had double retirements before but Fernando and you managed to make it more that nine laps collectively. With a weekend you were all just hoping to finish there really is a bitter taste in the air. Relenting, you pull your helmet off, stuffing your balaclava and headphones inside it before swapping the lot for your cap. Your PR tries to get you to smile but you just focus on fixing your hat, trying to muster up some kind of smile for the onslaught you’re about to get from the media.

_Let’s just get this over with._

It was going fine. You’d been doing well, wearing a brave face and being _extremely_ careful about what you were saying. But then it happens and it takes every ounce of you not to rush across the pen and check him over yourself. Fernando looks fine; looks to be his warm, bubbly self but you know what happens once the door is shut and you can’t be certain this isn’t another famous Alonso cover act. You swallow, your fingers itching to let go of the rail and run them over his body instead, just to make sure he’s fine.

“Jenson?” You head snaps back in front of you, having completely forgotten about the interview you were conducting. Your cheeks heat rapidly as you blush, eyes dropping to the floor.

“Sorry…” You mutter. The journalist, however, looks sympathetic.

“It’s clear from your radio message earlier that you were concerned about your teammate.” She smiles; abandoning whatever question she had been asking you. Your eyes widen in fear as more blood rushes to your face. _How much was broadcast?_ “Is he Ok?”

“Erm, yeah…” You stumble, feeling off balance. “Yeah he’s had a precautionary check at the medical centre but he’s here now so I guess he’s all good.” You use the topic of conversation to steal another glance at Fernando, eyes locking on the bit of his tattoo you can just about make out peaking from his collar. Biting your lip you take a breath before you force yourself back to the journalist.

“What did you make of the incident?”

“Well, I haven’t seen it from as many angles as you probably have, and I haven’t seen from on board Fernando’s car but from where I was sitting it looked like Kimi just lost the rear and…” You swallow, feeling tears prickle in your eyes. _No, he’s fine you can see he’s fine._ Somehow you don’t believe yourself. “Yeah…” You look down, forcing yourself to get a grip of the situation.

“Incidents like that are never nice to see.” The journalist agrees. You simply nod.

“Good to see them both coming out unscathed.” You smile lightly, trying to pull away from this area of conversation. But it seems she’s finished talking to you and there is no one else you need to talk to. _Wonderful._ Now you have to go and sit with those thoughts stewing in your head. You let yourself be lead out of the press pit not holding back as you stare at Fernando, hoping to know he actually is Ok. There is a nagging thought at the back of your mind that’s telling you he’s not; that you’ll go to Silverstone and your elusive Spaniard won’t be in the garage next door. You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts but it’s no use.

Suddenly arms are wrapped around you, pulling you close.

“It’s Ok.” Jessica mutters in your ear. You wrap your arms around her, like always wishing they were stronger arms, a thicker accent, more European… “It will get better, Jense.” You just nod because right now that’s all you can do. She thinks you’re sad about the race. To be frank you couldn’t care less about the race. You want to know, _really_ know, how your teammate is.

First it was Raquel, then Mark and now Lara. You never had a chance.

The stupid ‘school-boy’ crush you were sure you would get over has only evolved as Fernando and you have gotten older, grown up. You’ve seen the awkward Spaniard who hated loosing grow into a calm, clever-with-words man who can easily take your breath away. It hasn’t been easy; seeing him slip from one relationship to the next and never having to have your chance. You think back to that one time you were going to take a shot. Things hadn’t been going great with Jessica. You loved her, that was for definite, but the feelings you had for Fernando weren’t going anywhere. They were sticking around, forcing you to think about him at the worse possible moments. More than one occasion you had to bite your lip to refrain from calling out his name when you were with Jessica. You knew you weren’t being fair to her; you knew that she deserved so much more than what you were giving her. And you knew Fernando would always hold your heart, whether you wanted him to or not. It was the end of 2010 when it happened. Everyone had gone out to celebrate the end of another intense season of racing. By time you were all leaving only a few of you remained, Fernando and yourself being some of them. Felipe was passed out on the table in front of you and Sebastian and Kimi had vanished a little while ago. Words slurred pathetically, Fernando turned to you, confessing that he was divorcing Raquel. It caught you out; the fog of your drunken mind couldn’t clear quick enough for you to process everything he was saying. But somehow you pulled from his words that he believed he preferred men.

You still think back to that day sometimes; Fernando and you, sitting in a closing bar with his teammate passed out in front of you as the Spaniard proclaimed, quite passionately, that he was bisexual. You head was spinning and you knew you had to end things with Jessica. You weren’t being fair to her anyway and you hadn’t seen her for months with your jobs keeping you apart. You were going to act on the feelings you’d been hiding from everyone. It almost mutually ended, her and you agreeing it wasn’t really working anymore anyway. But it was no love lost; you were focused on the new chance with Fernando.

Too many times you tried but failed to tell Fernando how you felt. You slowly became his confidante; he’d sneak into your cool down room or hotel room and flop down on the bed, exasperating. You were probably the one other person to Raquel and him who knew most about his divorce. He told you everything: constantly mentioning a ‘him’ that you begged was you. You found you felt like you would have been taking advantage of him had you have proclaimed your feelings for him when he visited you that vulnerable, and that’s why you kept putting it off. Until the British Grand Prix that year. You’d had a shit race and were bored of moping around with this Fernando stuff hovering over your head. You were about to leave to find him, use his win as an icebreaker but he came to you. It shocked you but instantly you could tell he was different. There was no exasperation, no down turn in the line of his lips, no nothing. He nervously stood by the door, looking at you, his hair plastered to his face by champagne. You could smell it off him from this distance and your brain took you to that dark forbidden place where you freely imagined what it would taste like off his skin. But everything crashed as he explained the change in his demeanour.

He had kissed Mark.

_Mark…_

You remember the world spinning, throwing you to the floor and stamping on your chest until your ribs shattered, puncturing your lungs and heart. You couldn’t breathe but somehow you managed to pull a small smile on your face. Fuck knows how you did it; to this day you will never know, but as Fernando explained what had happened between Mark and him a small smile grew on his face and you couldn’t help but replicate it. You were happy for him, heart-broken it wasn’t you, but ecstatic that finally he had something to be grinning about. You soon found out, whispered in your ear at a press conference, that Mark and he were trying for a relationship. You smile was more forced at that time but you nodded, happy for him. It was the confirmation you needed.

You called Jessica and told her you had made a mistake in letting her go.

It was nice to have her back; warm arms at night, someone who supported you unconditionally. It seemed Jessica was relieved to have you back too. Even if every night was coated in guilt, each thought or dream of Fernando etched with remorse; she seemed determined to not let you slip through her fingers again. You almost admire her for that, but sometimes you just think how blind she can be. Still you thought of Fernando when you were with her, pretended small fingers bit into your skin harder than they did, deep groans instead of breathy moans. But you knew, now, you had to let this slide. It was over. You hung on to the hope every time Fernando came to you upset because Mark and he had had another fight but they were untouchable, unbreakable. They were never falling apart and you knew you couldn’t get between them. They were perfect together; everything you ever wanted with Fernando but it was too late. You wasted too many opportunities, too many chances where you could have told him how you felt. And now he was Mark’s.

You asked Jessica to marry you because she seemed to be questioning your feelings for her. It wasn’t for love, you know that, it was because you’d lost the love of your life and you were desperately trying to persuade yourself that Jessica could fill that hole within you. You made it a ‘surprise’ wedding, kept it low key and minimal guest mainly so you didn’t have to invite either Fernando or Mark. Fernando was hurt to have not been invited but took your weak explanation with a small nod. It was hard, talking to him with Mark hooked contently around his shoulder. You wanted that to be you, still, but you knew it wasn’t possible, wasn’t allowed. You were married now and you loved Jessica. 

As if to torment you, three weeks after you were married Mark and Fernando broke up. You returned from your honeymoon – sun-kissed skin and a blushing bride under your arm – to play the message you’d been secretly desperate to hear. But now what? You couldn’t deal with this now. You were married to Jessica, forgetting about Fernando. You had married Jessica because Fernando was no longer available. But now he was and as if to taunt you more, punish you further for marrying Jessica for the wrong reasons he stayed single through your whole first year of marriage. And the visits recommenced. Always starting the same: how was Jessica? How was married life? Were you happy? To all of which you would lie to. Yes, of course you were happy, you’d convinced yourself enough to hopefully make the lie believable. Fernando’s woeful tone about his life returned with another disappointing car and again you listened to every word. If only you hadn’t been married; you could have taken him into your arms and promised you’d make him better, make it all better for him. But that was not allowed anymore; you were married and Jessica’s regular appearances to races further reminded you of that.

And then the game changed because he was leaving Ferrari to join you at McLaren. And he told you that he was speaking to Ron, speaking to Eric, speaking to everyone to make sure they retained you and not Kevin. This wasn’t what you wanted. You wanted distance from him. If you weren’t allowed him you didn’t want to be tormented with him. But he seemed so desperate for you to be his teammate. When it all finally came through that you would be staying on at McLaren with him you started to question his motives. Maybe he wanted you, maybe that’s why he was so desperate to be close to you. And he was always taking such a keen interest in your marriage. You were going to ask him in the new year; a fresh start with a new engine and a new teammate.

Then Lara appeared and Fernando was happy again.

It was then you decided this wasn’t worth it anymore. You had Jessica and he had Lara. That was the way it was. You would be two heterosexual males fighting with a pathetic engine. That was how it had to be.

You’re walking back to the motorhome with Jessica under your arm when you see Fernando dash inside. You’re not sure how he got passed you but he has managed to beat you back into the motorhome. You somehow know what that means, like he has deliberately waited so you can see him rush inside and know exactly where the Spaniard will end up. You kiss Jessica’s temple, eyes locked on the door.

“Grab a coffee. I’ve just got to check something before debrief.” You mutter, leading her into the McLaren principality.

“Ok.” She smiles softly, cupping your cheek and pressing her lips to yours. “I’ll get you some cake.”

“Thanks.” You mutter, though you’ve not really heard her. You arm comes away from her and you take the stairs two at a time, approaching the door with your name on it. Standing outside you take a long deep breath before you push the door open. And there he is: standing awkwardly in the middle of the room, peering over your shoulder. “She’s downstairs.” You say, closing the door. Fernando nods, looking at the floor.

“I thought she comes up with you.”

“No.” You say, not really sure why, approaching him slowly. You reach a hand out for his shoulder but stop before you make contact, pulling it back and folding it across your body. “Are you Ok?”

“Yes.” He nods, smiling at you a little. “Just a small bump.”

“I know a thing or two about bumps, Fernando. That one wasn’t small.”

“No…” He shrugs, eyes back on the floor. You’re not sure what he’s waiting for.

“What are we going to do with you, eh?”

“Do with me?” Fernando frowns. You laugh lightly at him, dropping your arms to your sides and taking a step closer.

“First in Barcelona and now here. You trying to give us all a heart attack?” You’re trying to joke but the words have got stuck in your throat. You remember that pre-season test accident too well. The pain in your voice as you were demanding you go in the helicopter with him still haunts your thoughts. You were too raw, too clear with your feelings; anyone could have seen.

“Am sorry I scare you.” Fernando mutters, his eyes locked on yours. You audibly gasp as his hand cups your cheek. “Are crying…”

“I’m fine.” You try, but it only sends more tears down your cheeks. The fear of loosing him is too high and he’s caught you on the back foot. He’s shaking his head.

“Are not.” He swallows. And suddenly his fluffy hair is tickling against you nose. You grip him tightly, breathing him in shamelessly. It calms you a little, just knowing he’s here and still in one piece. Tears rush down you face now in relief and you can’t stop your hands running all over him. “W-What are you doing?” He stutters.

“Checking you’re actually Ok.”

“Am fine.” He laughs lightly, gasping a little as you put pressure on his left shoulder. You raise an eyebrow at him. “Just a little sore.”

“You better not abandon me in Silverstone.” You warn and he gifts you with that adorable smile that seems to be fixed on his face whenever you see him.

“No chance. Need to get more points than you.” He beams.

“Yeah, good luck with that buddy.” You don’t voice your negative words about the car; you don’t need to.

“Will get better.”

“You car retired today through no fault of your own… Mine…” _more mechanical issues._

“We both have updates for Silverstone.” Fernando reminds. It’s at this point you realise he’s got your left hand, spinning your wedding ring round in circles. You frown down at him.

“What are you doing?” You ask. Suddenly your hand is dropped.

“Habit…” He says, but you don’t understand the comment. Before you have a chance to ask for more of an explanation there is a knock on the door.

“Debrief in five.” Tom calls.

“Ok.” You confirm. Fernando sighs.

“We should go.”

“Yes.” You nod. You’re about to move towards the door when his arms come back around you, holding on tightly. You know you shouldn’t steal moments like this but it’s so hard not to when they’re there, begging to be stolen. You bury yourself in him, letting him flood each of your senses.

“Thank you for checking am Ok.” Fernando exhales softly. You’re not sure if he’s nuzzling closer or if your imagining it.

“Never a problem.” You mutter, just as contently as him. You know this will never get easier; not whilst he’s here. But he has Lara and you have Jessica. And whatever you have to do to remind yourself of that you will. But they’ll never stop you stealing moments with Fernando and dreaming of the what-could-have-been’s.

\- - -

“Sorry I could not be there.”

“Is no problem.” Fernando smiles, resting his coffee down. Back in Spain he's away from the hurt and disaster that was the Austrian Grand Prix. Lara reaches across the table, squeezing his hand.

“What happened?” Fernando’s smile clatters on the breakfast bar. If anything Lara is exceptional at reading him like an open book. He drops his head in his hands. “Fernando…” She sighs, moving round to wrap her arm over his shoulders. Fernando shakes his head.

“I go to him again…”

“Why do you keep doing this to yourself?” She asks, tutting him. He doesn’t want her condescending tones.

“I wanted him to…” Fernando swallows. However much he tries he can’t swallow those feelings, not now he understands them too well.

“Fernando…” Lara is upset for him. Lara is the only person who knows how he feels about Jenson. A friend of a friend who had, over new years, been trying to get with him. He had tried to deter her but she stuck around until he told her he just wasn’t interested. She chose to stick around and before Fernando knew it she was consoling him as he poured his heart out about his teammate; that damned bottle of Vodka Kimi had left in his house having been pretty much emptied into his stomach. She promised to keep his secret and promised to try and help him, but with all the will in the world there was no hope. She’d moved in only because she was concerned about him doing himself damage if he lied alone. Fernando appreciated that; she was the one person he could fall back onto. Usually he would go to Jenson but that wasn’t really possible anymore. “You need to talk to him.”

“Cannot.” Fernando sniffled, drying his eyes. “Is married.”

“You were married.” Lara reminds him but Fernando is shaking his head.

“Jenson is happy. Will not ruin his happiness.” Lara still doesn’t understand why Fernando introduced her to the Brit as his girlfriend but she’s put it down to one of the mysteries that is Fernando Alonso. She asked him about it but he never gave her a straight answer.

“What about your happiness?” She coos. Fernando just shrugs. He’ll be happy eventually… Maybe… For now he’s sure Lara and him will end up in some sort of relationship. She is amazing; he can’t believe she’s still here with him knowing she doesn’t have a shot. Maybe, in time, he’ll accept her; start a relationship with her. But the problem is now he understands why he went to Jenson and not Mark about Raquel. He knows now the feelings he thought he felt for Mark weren’t a touch on what he felt for Jenson. Finding out about Jenson’s marriage like that killed him. And then Mark tried to fix it by proposing… It was never going to work. When he said no to the Australian Mark got angry, accused him of loving someone else – loving Jenson. And really, Fernando couldn’t argue with that.

“Fernando, please do not do this to yourself.” Lara begs, holding him close. Fernando doesn’t say anything, doesn’t make any sort of commitment or denial to her request. He thinks back to some almost moments he’s had with Jenson; moments where he thought the Brit was going to say something. But he could just be kidding himself. Jenson is married now and that means he doesn’t have any feelings for anyone but Jessica. _Jessica_ … Fernando has never been so envious of someone in his entire life.

Wasting all that time with Mark he never realised how happy he could have been with Jenson. And now it was all too late.

 

_~El Fin~_


End file.
